Big Genius 6
by booknerdhere
Summary: Sherlock is a genius. A genius and an orphan... And he's lost everything. (In which the basic plot line of Big Hero 6 is followed, but with Sherlock characters instead.)
1. The Bot Fight

**Hello Readers! So, I know I've deleted some stories. I also know I haven't really been active here whatsoever. I would like to apologize, but I would also like to inform you that I probably won't be a regular updater. School, my faith, and my family are my first priorities. FanFiction is just something that I do for fun.**

**Anyways, I recently saw the newly released movie **_**Big Hero 6**_** and all I could think while watching it is how the main character, Hiro, looked like a young Sherlock. So I came up with this idea. This story is a **_**Sherlock/Big Hero 6**_** crossover. It follows the basic plotline of **_**Big Hero 6**_**, but the characters are from **_**BBC Sherlock**_**. For all those who haven't seen **_**Big Hero 6**_**…. SPOILER ALERT! **

**I hope that you enjoy this newest creation! I will try to post new chapters when I can. I will also try to stray at least a little from the original plotline to make the story more interesting. I won't be quoting the movie word for word either, as I've only seen it once.**

**DISCLAIMER- I do not own any creation made by Disney, BBC, or Arthur Conan Doyle.**

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><p>The bots were a whirlwind, tearing at each other with animal ferocity. The larger bot, silver and heavily arm, took a swing at the smaller, pink-accented bot. The smaller bot attacked back… until it's opponent's spinning blade came down. A sickening crunch resounded off the walls of the ratty building. The crowd, tightly compacted and struggling to see, gasped… A cheer went up as the pink bot's life drained. Certain people handed over the money they owed. Betting on bot fights was a dangerous business, and quickly left one in near-poverty.<p>

The girl who owned the pink bot, a tall teenager with pink streaks in her own hair, scooped up her demolished bot from the concrete floor. She disappeared into the wild group behind her, glaring at the floor.

The ringmaster was, finally, able to speak over the din. "Janine's JanBot takes a hard hit! Moran wins again, taking the winnings for his own once more! Who dares to face the MoranBot?"

The triumphant Sebastian Moran bellowed his agreement, "Yeah, who's next? Who's next?" The cry went up and bot fighters muttered amongst one another. Moran was a professional bot fighter, menacing in both personality and looks. He towered above nearly anyone, and muscles bulged from beneath his filthy shirt. His nose was crooked, and his lip curled in a permanent snarl. His bot, the MoranBit as he called it, was in pristine condition, the prize of Sebastian's life. It had been ordered and made to win… and that's exactly what it did.

"Can I try?" A voice called above the racket. The dense mass of human bodies parted to reveal… a child. He could only have been fourteen at most with a skinny frame, a mop of dark, unruly curls, and big blue eyes that appeared to take in everything at once. He repeated his question, "Can I try?" His tone was one of eagerness. "I've got a bot." He held out, a small, black, mechanical thing that looked like a baby's toy. It even had a yellow smiley face painted on it.

The betters and bot fighters burst into boisterous laughter.

"Gee kid!" Someone called, "Did you glue LEGO's together?"

The crowd only laughed lowder. The ringmaster strode up to the boy, eying his short, thin frame and his typical outfit of skinny jeans, a purple t-shirt and a black hoodie.

"Sorry, but kid's can't play." She didn't sound sorry at all, and the boy's shoulders sagged with disappointment. "Besides, you've gotta pay to play."

At this the bright eyed teenager perked up, pulling a crumpled ball of dollar bills from his pocket. "I have money." There was a silence as the ringmaster bit her lip, and then…

"Fine." The deafening noise resumed with renewed vigor as the two players threw thier money into a pot. They took their places criss-cross-applesauce on either side of the fighting ring (which was really just a circle drawn on the floor with chalk), controllers in hand.

"An epic battle between Moran, four time winner-" A loud cheer resounded as the ringmaster spoke, "and- what's your name, kid?"

"Sherlock." He answered crisply.

"And Sherlock!" A less enthusiastic cheer was all the boy received. "Begin in one…" Sherlock steeled himself, meeting the eyes of his opponent. _He's overconfident. He underestimates me because I'm a kid. Exactly what I need_, "Two…" Moran stared back, an evil grin spreading across his scarred face. _Yes that look definitely implies overconfidence. Stupid, stupid adults_, "_**Three**__!_"

The MoranBot burst into action, heading towards the pitiful toy across the ring. At the last second, Sherlock moved his bot out of the way. The MoranBot turned, bringing down it's saw enhanced arm…. and the small bot broke into pieces. The fight was over, just like that. Everyone laughed as Sherlock simply stared and Sebastian took his money.

"Can I play again?" Sherlock asked as he stood. He fished another wad of cash, this time from his hoodie pocket.

Once Sherlock had reassembled the magnetic pieces of his bot, the next match began. The Moran Bot was quick to act, knocking over Sherlock's bot. Suddenly the happy face switched, turning to a red angry face. The smaller bot separated it's pieces, and those pieces worked together to attack the MoranBot. A shocked breath was held as _click!_ off came the saw arm and _bam! _off came the legs and _smack! _off cam the head!

The breath was released and the room grew so loud, that one could not even hear himself think. Sherlock, grinning, grabbed his bot and his winnings. _Take that, idiot. _Moran was speechless, until fury took over. He dragged Sherlock out of the building by his collar, throwing him against an alleyway wall.

"Hey guys," Sherlock said, laughing nervously, "It was a fair win. What're you doing?" _Oooh dear. Face red. Muscles clenched. Sure sign of embarrassment. Embarrassment = annoyance. Annoyance = lashing out. Lashing out = violence. Violence = harm to me. Harm to me = questions. Questions = truth. Truth = being grounded. _

"No little kid mocks _me_." Sebastian Moran growled, snatching the now smiley-faced bot from the boy's hand. "Take care of him." He barked. His two henchmen closed in on Sherlock, leering, fists ready to shoot forward-

_**VROOOM!**_

A motorcycle spend around the corner of the alleyway, skidding to a halt before the Moran and his henchmen.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted with relief as his older brother pulled him onto the motorcycle and stuck a too-big helmet on his head. Sherlock pushed the helmet from his eyes as the bike turned and headed back the way it had come. Using his controller, Sherlock disassembled the pieced of his bot. They fell from Sebastian's hand, flew to Sherlock, and quickly pieced back together. Sherlock, barely keeping his balance, rotated so that he was facing the correct way. The wind whipped in his face, as Mycroft began his lecture.

"Why do you think you were doing!?"

"Bot fighting."

"Sherlock, you _know_ that bot fighting is illegal…" Mycroft doubted himself for a moment, "Don't you?"

"Bot fighting is not illegal, Croft!" Sherlock replied tartly. His brother let out a strained sigh. "_Betting _on bot fight's is illegal. And besides, you should be proud of me, I'm making money!" He waved some cash in Mycroft's face. This did not improve Mycroft's mood.

"You graduate high school at fourteen and _this _is what you do with your life?"

Sherlock never got time to reply, because they reached the end of the alleyway to find police cars blocking the entrance, sirens wailing and lights flashing.

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><p>"I raised you for ten years and <em>this <em>is the kind of treatment I get!?"

Sherlock and Mycroft's Aunt Hudsyn exclaimed as she opened the door to her bakery. The heavenly smell of sugary sweets wafted to the boys' nose. Sherlock was a guilt sweet-tooth. _Hey, at least I can contain myself… unlike Mycroft._

Aunt Hudsyn seemed so disappointed, that Sherlock had to feel a little sorry. The cops had thrown the two brothers into the local jail until Auntie had bailed them out. Now she was ranting. _Never a good thing._

"I had to close the shop early to come bail you two!" Aunt Hudsyn went on as she grabbed a donut and took a large bite. "Ugh, stress eating! I'm stress eating! Do you see what you two have driven me to?"

"Sorry Aunt Hudsyn…" They both muttered in unison. Auntie didn't reply, only turned around and shuffled out of the room, muttering to herself. Sherlock swore he heard her say "Man, this is good."

_In that way, Aunt Hudsyn and Mycroft are alike. They stress eat. _He sighed and followed the auburn head, diverting at the steps and making his way up to the room he and Mycroft shared in the attic. He plopped down at his computer, fingers flying across the keys.

Mycroft followed, "You'd better make this up to Auntie." He stated.

"I will." Sherlock replied absentmindedly.

"Lock…" Mycroft was using his childhood nickname. _Really? Lock? Aren't I getting a bit old for that. _"Let me guess, you're looking for another bot fight."

"Mycroft, you never guess. You deduce. And I _was _looking for another bot fight. I found one. I'll be back later." He stood from his swivel seat. His older brother ran a hand through his chocolate brown hair that sometimes had hints of red. His grey-blue eyes fixed on Sherlock. _Circles under his eyes… he was worrying about me. He also was up early to make a 6:30 class. _

"What ever happened to wanting to be a pirate?" _He has his hands behind his back. He always does that when he's anxious. _

"You're not going to make me feel bad, Croft. It just won't work."

"Is this what mom and dad would want?"

Sherlock felt his heart drop. Mycroft hadn't really wanted to go that far, obvious by the fact that he wasn't meeting his eyes. Sherlock replied steadily and rather coldly. "How would I know? They died when I was three, remember?" Mycroft seemed to deflate a bit, looking guilty.

"Fine, I'm not going to stop you."

"Really?" _There's more coming._

"No, but I am going to come with you." He grabbed his motorbike helmet, and tossed one to Sherlock. Sherlock caught it with ease, used to reacting quickly. As his brother headed down the stairs, Sherlock's eyes narrowed. _Holding himself high… Smirking slightly. Something is __**definitely**_ _up._


	2. Londokyo Institute of Technology

**Thank you ALL for the wonderful feedback! Please know that I accept constructive criticism, as long as it isn't harsh! I also enjoy simple comments, ideas, and suggestions! Thanks!**

**DISCLAIMER- I do not own any creation of Disney, BBC, or A.C. Doyle**

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><p>Sherlock knew from the first turn that they were <em>not <em>heading towards the location of the bot fight. He wanted to yell at Mycroft and tell him to turn around, but his curiosity got the best of him. Thus he was sorely disappointed when Mycroft pulled up in front of the Londokyo Institution of Technology. _What could the fat git possibly want to do here at this time of night. _

"Really, Mycroft? What are we doing at your nerd school?"

Mycroft swung off the motorcycle and twirled his ever present umbrella, "I just need to pick something up." He jogged up the front steps and after a moment's hesitation, Sherlock followed. _Sureeeeeeee. You're probably going to make me talk to your stupid nerd friends. I really don't have time for this right now. _

He met his brother, who was now panting from the 'exertion' of climbing the steps, and followed him into the large building. There were poster boards everywhere, covered in flyers and announcements. The halls were comfortably warm, and the walls were actually painted a very friendly shade of green. _Huh. I expected it to be very… well, white. And less friendly._

"Are you going to take a long time?" He questioned suspiciously as Mycroft led him through winding hallways. _The bot fight starts in twenty minutes… _

"No, Sherl. I'll only be a minute. He stopped in front of a large set of wooden, double doors. They were, frankly, rather intimidating. He pulled one of the doors open, and Sherlock followed, gingerly placing his feet. Upon entering, he could only stop and stare. This room _was _white, but it was so crowded that Sherlock wasn't paying any attention to the color. There were cabinets pushed against the walls, no doubt full of tools. Bins of scrap metal and wood littered the room, and posters on every design one could imagine. Tables were littered with half-finished projects and elaborately drawn blueprints. It was… well… _amazing._

Sherlock was jerked out of his reverie when someone shouted "Watch it, kid!" And sped past him, nearly knocking him over. The figure pulled her yellow bike to a stop and jumped off, hanging it nimbly from the ceiling. Sherlock, unable to resist, shuffled over. He spun the back wheel and it rotated at a rapid speed. _It's not connected to the read dropouts…_

"Wow! I've heard of electromagnetic suspension, but never on a bike!"

"Yup." The driver replied. Shaking out her short blonde hair. The violet streaks momentarily caught Sherlock's attention, reminding him of the girl at the bot fight. _The bot fight… _The girl cut him off. "It allows the bike to go much faster with less pedaling."

"I noticed."

"But," she said, grabbing the back wheel and jerking it from it's place "Not fast enough." She tossed it into an overflowing bucket of wheels, which all looked alike. _Geez, wonder how long she's been working on this._

Mycroft finally spoke up, gesturing toward the short engineer. "This is Mary, but you can call her GoGo. GoGo, this is my brother Sherlock." Mary only nodded in response and went over to her worktable.

Sherlock was distracted when he saw a girl with curly hair and dark skin poking at two bars. He sauntered over, asking in the most casual tone he could muster "What's this thing do?"

"What does this do?" Questioned the girl, a smile spreading over her face, "Well, have a look." She pressed a button and the two metal bars zoomed outward. A blue forcefield appeared between the bars while Curly-Hair picked up an apple, tossing it casually into the air. Sherlock observed with fascination as she threw it towards the contraption. It passed through the shimmering force, and appeared in thin slices on the other side.

"Impressive." Sherlock said, trying to appear like he'd seen this level of technology before "Did you make it?"

"Yesiree." Said the girl, placing her tools back on a ridiculously organized table. "I'm Sally Donovan."

Mycroft took this chance to intervene "Better known as Wasabi." He flashed a mischievous grin at 'Wasabi', who gave him a glare in return. Rather abruptly, the glaring contest was cut of when Sherlock was turned around and grabbed by the shoulders, coming face-to-face with a large pair of bright green eyes rimmed by magenta glasses.

"You must be Sherlock!" The young woman exclaimed, her voice high-pitched and exited. She wore a pink, 60's style headband in her very long, honey brown hair, along with a matching pink lab coat. "I'm Honey Lemon!" She towered over Sherlock, making him feel even shorter than he usually did.

"Erm… nice to meet you… Honey Lemon?" He couldn't help but be confused by all the odd nicknames.

"Her real name is Molly. Phillip picks the nicknames." Mycroft stated as is it was obvious.

"Phillip? Who's-"

As if on cue a costumed figure poked into view, bumping roughly into Sherlock. "I'm Phillip!" Seeing the appalled look on the boy's face, Philip took off his mask. "Call me Phil! By day, I'm the school's mascot. By night…" He trailed off, frowning "I'm also the school's mascot."

"What's _your _major?" Sherlock questioned.

"Oh, I'm not actually a student, although I enjoy science just as much as these nerds do!" He walked over to a cozy-looking corner, settling in a large loveseat. "I've tried to get Honey to assist me in concocting a formula that will turn me into a fire-breathing lizard, but she said no."

Honey Lemon looked bashful "Well, I mean, it's not exactly safe…"

"And I asked Wasabi to build a shrink ray, but that idea was also rebuffed."

"It's useless." Wasabi stated bluntly.

"So, I've come up with a new idea." Sherlock shot a pointed look at Mycroft, one that clearly asked _Does he ever stop talking? _Mycroft merely shrugged. "I think we should create an invisible sandwich! I mean, just imagine eating a sandwich while everyone's staring at you like you're crazy!"

Seeing as Philip was obviously occupied, Mycroft took the opportunity to lead Sherlock away from the group. He led him into a smaller room, though it looked virtually the same as the subsequent one. "This is my workspace." Mycroft said, turning around and giving his umbrella a showy little twirl.

"It's… cluttered." _It though Mycroft was a neat freak. Obviously I misjudged him. Although it's significantly more organized than GoGo and Honey's workspaces… and Phil's too._

"Really? That's all you can say?" Mycroft feigned sadness, wiping away an invisible tear, before grabbing something from his desk. _Why does he need a roll of duct tape?_ Sherlock wondered as his brother bit off a piece. Suddenly, Mycroft stuck the duct tape on Sherlock's arm, patting it down before ripping it off.

"Ow!" Sherlock shouted as the hair was ripped from his forearm "What the heck, My-" He stopped when he spotted movement. The red chest - one of the first things he had noticed when he'd entered the room - was opening. It opened fully, and a large figure quickly rose out of it. It rose and rose until a tall figure stood there. It looked akin to a giant marshmallow, or perhaps the Pillsbury Dough man… and then it moved. It clumsily maneuvered itself from the chest, before walking over. As it moved towards Sherlock, a shuffling sound echoed off the walls. "Did I hear someone say 'ow'?"

Mycroft watched from the sidelines, allowing himself a small smile as he watched his little brother stare. _Oh Sherlock… You're so young and innocent. You still have so much to learn. _

Sherlock blinked once, tilting his head "Um, yeah, but… I'm fine."

The robot spoke again "Hello! I am Watson, your personal healthcare assistant." A chart appeared on his round, inflatable stomach. "On a scale of one-to-ten, how would you rate your pain?" The robot's voice was soft, calm and patient.

"I- I'm fine, really."

"But you said 'ow'. 'Ow' is a sign of distress."

"Really I'm fine!" Sherlock moved away, only to have Watson follow.

"Let me scan you."

"What?"

"Let me scan you."

"No, I told you, I-"

"Scan complete."

Sherlock emitted an exasperated sigh.

"You have a minor abrasion on your forearm."

"Yes, I know, _Watson._" He said the name with a small amount of contempt, hoping the robot would back off.

"Sherlock." Mycroft warned, stepping forward, "In order to shut him down you need to say 'I am satisfied with my care'."

"Okay… then I'm satisfied with my care." The robot powered down, and as soon as it did Sherlock moved to inspect it. "It's… it's inflatable. That's… well, that's ingenious!" He continued to look it over, poking and prodding, oohing and aahing, laughing and gasping. He couldn't help but be amazed and interested. _Mycroft is increasingly smarter than he appears, I must give him that._

The door opened with a creak, and a gray-haired, professionally dressed man entered. "Oh, hello Mycroft." He said warmly, "Doing a bit of late-night work are we?"

"Yes sir," Mycroft replied. _Mycroft treats this man with respect. He must be the professor. _"I was just closing up shop." He led Sherlock and the professor out of the room, switching off the lights. As they exited the shop, Mycroft gestured to his brother. "Professor, this is my little brother Sherlock."

"Ah, yes. I've heard all about you young man. Graduated high school at fourteen, didn't you?" Sherlock nodded. "Yes, yes. Very impressive. You could apply here, you know.

"Well sir," Mycroft interceded, "That's not bound to happen. It seems my brother wants to participate in bot fights for a living."

"Well-" Sherlock tried to put in his own opinion, but he was cut off.

"Really? What sort of bot do you use."

Now it was Sherlock's time to shine. "It's made of electro magnetic microbots, and there's very few like it."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft chided, "Don't show off! This is Robert Callaghan." Sherlock stared at the older man.

"You… You created these bots!"

Callaghan grinned, "I certainly did." He started down the hallway, "And you certainly seem to know a lot about them." As they came to the front door of the Londokyo Institution of Technology, Professor Callaghan stopped. "Remember, Sherlock. You're always welcome here."

"Thank you sir." Sherlock was silent as he and Mycroft walked down the steps, but when they reached the motorcycle, he exploded. In a burst of energy, he hopped around on the sidewalk, shouting in earnest excitement: "Croft, I _have _to go here!"

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><p><strong>Please Review!<strong>


	3. Of Science Shows and Fires

**Thanks so much for the feedback! A special shoutout to KuroYami13 for being the first reviewer! Her positive message made my day! Please Read & Review!**

**On an extra note, I have a little idea set into my mind that, according to the way Sherlock reacts to things and addresses the public, he has some sort of disorder. In my mind, it is probably ADHD. There is predominately hyperactive-impulsive ADHD, predominantly inattentive ADHD, and combined hyperactive-impulsive inattentive. I believe that Sherlock, if he had ADHD, would be classified under the predominantly hyperactive-impulsive ADHD area. He still shows a few inattentive symptoms, but he most shows those of hyperactive-impulsive.**

**DISCLAIMER- I do not own any creation of Disney, BBC, or A.C. Doyle**

Sherlock sat at his desk, spinning aimlessly in his chair. He'd had a terrible night of sleep, as his brain had run rampant with thoughts of Nerd School. _How in the world did GoGo make those wheels!? _His ever-working brain thought. _Why is Wasabi such a neat freak? Honey Lemon is nice… although Philip seems rather incompetent. And Watson… oh, that is clever! A deflatable robot! That heals people! It's practically a walking-talking medical dictionary. Mycroft is definitely going to go places with that…_

Mycroft appeared in Sherlock's peripheral vision just as he registered that something - _No someone, slightly over the usual weight, out of breath - _was coming up the stairs.

"Rough night, Sherl?" He asked with a grin, eying his disheveled brother. He walked over to his desk and stapled a flyer into the wall. "Every summer the University holds an exhibition. People who would like to attend the Institute invent something spectacular and, obviously, robotic. Professor Callaghan views all the new inventions, and picks out the people he would like to attend his school. It's hard to get in… but I think you can do it."

Sherlock didn't reply, he just stared at the poster on his wall. _I'm going to get into that school, if it is the last thing I do._ He flipped his chair back around, putting on a confident expression, "Well… I think it's time the inventing began."

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><p><strong>6 HOURS LATER<strong>

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><p>"Mycroft I can't do this!" Sherlock exclaimed with a sigh, slumping over his desk. His hands hurt from sketching models and writing out equations, and his fingers ached from typing at top speed. Mycroft sat nearby on his bed, nose in some book on the government. Sherlock was too exhausted to pay attention to the title. "I've come up with two hundred forty two- no, two hundred forty <em>three <em>different ideas, but none of them are good enough! I need it to be perfect! I want Callaghan to be impressed! I don't want him to think I'm some imbecilic little kid with far-fetched dreams!" Sherlock emitted a groan.

Mycroft set down his book, "Oh come on Sherlock, I'm sure at least one of those ideas are good!"

"No they're notttttt."

Mycroft shook his head, then hefted his younger brother into the air with surprising ease. Sherlock was naturally skinny and didn't weigh much. It came with spending so much time inventing things and performing experiments and forgetting to eat. Mycroft swung the boy-genius around, so that he was upside down.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted as he was bounced around.

"You have to look at it from a different perspective, Sherl! You've got to take every aspect it, and then go at it from a new angle. A _unique _angle!"

Sherlock gave up trying to struggle, falling limp with a sigh. He was about to say that he'd tried everything when his eye caught something. His bot was sitting, lonely and neglected, against his computer. _Look at it from a different angle… _An idea began to form in his mind, and a 'lightbulb!' smile spread across his porcelain face.

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><p>Sherlock stood back, gazing up at the Londokyo Institution of Robotics. Mycroft, Sherlock and their friends were lugging large garbage bins from the car, each full of (drumroll please, and no revealing true identities) William Sherlock Scott Holmes' newest invention. It had taken an entire month and a half of brainstorming, blueprinting, purchasing materials, fusing, exploding, wiring, laughing and crying. Finally, quite literally as of last night, Sherlock had completed his project. He knew it was brilliant, knew it would wow the crowd, and yet butterflies danced in his stomach, causing him to feel queasy.<p>

The garbage bins were dragged and pushed up the stairs with extreme difficulty. They made it to the gym, which had been turned into exhibition-station. Sherlock looked around, all the colours, sounds and new projects overloading his already stressed and working brain. It was almost painful, all of the sensations, so Sherlock fixed his eyes on the floor. Part of him wanted to turn around and flee the room- _**No.**__ No, not today. Today I've got to face my fears. I have to tune everything out. Focus on the job ahead. No panicking because of noise. No shying away from bright colours. And __**no **__deductions, Sherlock! Now is not the time to accidentally offend people! _

In no time, they reached the stage. It had been set up so that people could show off what they had created. Sherlock, wanting to get it all over with, told Mycroft that he'd like to go now. GoGo, Honey Lemon, Wasabi and Mycroft set the garbage bins against a wall. With words of encouragement, they left Sherlock alone. Sherlock reached into one and pulled out the key piece to his exhibition - the transmitter. He took a deep breath.

"You can do this." Sherlock, edgy enough to be scared by a butterfly, jumped and spun around. Mycroft was standing there, smartly dressed in a brown pinstripe suit. He had his umbrella, as always. Yet, he also had a warm, encouraging smile on his face.

"Wh-what?"

"You can do this, Lock. I _know _you can." Mycroft bent down so he was eye-to-eye with his little brother. "I have faith in you, Sherlock… I know it's a lot to take in. I understand that, for you, it's scarier than it would be for most-" _Not to mention your age… fourteen is so young to be applying for Uni_-, "But I know you can do it. Just tune it all out and focus, alright?"

Sherlock nodded in response, squeaking out a tiny "Okay."

"Now, fistbump?" Mycroft questioned. His brother bumped his fist, made the standard explosion sound, and managed a small, nervous smile. Laughing, Mycroft mussed Sherlock's hair and pushed him toward the stage. "Go get 'em tiger. We know you'll wow the crowd."

Sherlock, quivering from head to toe, gingerly inched his way up the steps and onto the stage. Bright lights blinded him for a moment until his eyes adjusted. A few people had already gathered before him, all except Mycroft, Aunt Hudsyn and his friends looking skeptical… Although even GoGo looked a little pessimistic. Sherlock realized this was probably because he was cowering, so he stood up straight. _Stop cowering you idiot, and __**talk!**_ He cleared his throat. "Um… hi…" _Eloquence, stupid, __**ELOQUENCE!**_ "M-My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I… I am here today to p-present my invention in hopes that I can be accepted into this w-wonderful school." _And stop stuttering! _Sherlock cleared his throat again. "Over the past few months I have been working on creating microbots. Microbots are a type of nanorobotics, which can be controlled telepathically through _this _neurotransmitter." Sherlock held up the circular, metal headpiece.

People from the crowd started to wander over, wondering what this new project was. Sherlock had successfully gained the attention of at least half the people there. Mycroft gave him a thumbs up, while Aunt Hudsyn smiled proudly. Honey-Lemon, normally refined, let out a loud whoop, "GO SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock, confidence renewed, continued to talk. "Please watch closely." He set the neurotransmitter on his head. _Come on microbots, don't fail me now… come here! _The garbage bins by the wall began to shake, rattling violently and filling the gym with a rather unpleasant metal-on-metal sound. Then, all at once, the bins tipped… and the microbots came flying out. They moved quickly until they had all gathered next to Sherlock, forming a tower at his command. The crowd gaped, and more viewers bustled over to see. "These microbots can pretty much to anything you tell them to. They can, as you see, help with construction. Buildings that would normally take months would take an hour at most to create. They can also be used for transportation!" Sherlock stepped onto a hard sheet of microbots, forcing himself to stay calm as they shuffled off the stage and through the crowd with himself balancing on top. "Never again will you have to wait in hours of traffic… and don't worry about getting run over!" The microbots flew up and wall and onto the ceiling, wrapping around Sherlock's feet so that he wouldn't fall. They moved back down the opposite wall and onto a light wire stretched across the gym… but the wire didn't break. "They can be heavy, but also light!" Sherlock, still upside down, reached down and gave Philip a high-five as he jumped.

The microbots turned and gently set Sherlock back down on the stage. They collapsed into a still, nonmoving pile. "At your every command, the microbots obey. I promise you all, that these microbots will take us places. The future, my friends, is only a step away." The microbots sprung to life once again, climbing to form a large arrow pointing up at the ceiling. The crowd, now consisting of every human life in the gym, cheered. The sound was deafening, and it hurt both Sherlock's ears and his head, but for once he didn't care. He basked in the attention and praise, stepping forward to bow. After he had done so, he sent the microbots back to their garbage bins- well, all except one. The first that had been built he kept in his pocket. _I'll keep it forever… a memento of this wonderful day! _Sherlock removed the neurotransmitter and bounded down the stairs.

His family and friends rushed to meet him. Aunt Hudsyn gave him a big wet kiss on his cheek, much to his disgust. Mycroft picked him up and spun him around, grinning from ear to ear. Phillip and Wasabi settled for a high five, Honey gingerly hugged him and simply GoGo popped her gum and nodded. Sherlock basked in the attention, laughing and shouting. A few minutes later the celebration was broken. A tall, weasley looking man walked up. He had pale skin and neatly combed black hair… not to mention a rather high-pitched voice.

"Good afternoon to you Mr. Holmes… the younger, of course. My name is James Moriarty. I absolutely loved your microbots… may I see?"

Sherlock tentatively handed his microbot to James, who studied it closely. "Amazing. Simply amazing. I would love to buy your product, you kn-"

"James." Moriarty was cut off by Professor Gregory Lestrade. "Leave the boy alone." He turned to Sherlock "Do not trust this man, my boy. He is only seeking to make profit off of your creation."

"Come now, Greg, I would never-"

"_Enough _James. Sherlock…" The Professor pulled an envelope from his back pocket. "It is my honor to invite you to join us here at the Londokyo Institution of Robotics." Sherlock took the letter, gazing at it.

Moriarty spoke up again. "Here you will only learn techniques you already know, but meanwhile I could be making you rich!" A desperate toke struck in his voice.

Lestrade sighed, shaking his head. "It is your choice, Sherlock."

Sherlock gulped looking from one man to another, then stood tall. "I'm sorry Mr. Moriarty… but I accept Professor Gregory's offer. Thank you, nonetheless."

James' eyes grew cold, sending a glare toward the Professor. "Fine. If that is what you wish." He turned, but Mycroft suddenly spoke up.

"Excuse me sir… but give my brother back his microbot."

James Moriarty pivoted back towards them, looking surprised. Then, seeing that Mycroft was not joking, he violently thrust the microbot back into Sherlock's hand before stalking away.

* * *

><p>Sherlock leaned on the balcony rail and gazed out over the campus. The night air was refreshing on his hot face. Mycroft had brought him up here, telling the others they would soon join the celebration.<p>

"I would say you want to give me the whole 'I'm so proud of you' speech, but a simple deduction proves that theory wrong."

Mycroft shrugged. "I _am _proud, but that's not why I brought you up here. I just wanted to congratulate you on making it into the school. You're going to go far, Sherlock. Very far. You could have done it on your own, but this place will give you the inspiration."

Sherlock pondered these words. A melancholy thought popped into his head… _What would Mum and Dad think? _

Mycroft glanced over at the younger boy. "What are you thinking it that large brain of yours?"

Sherlock, not sure how to express what he wanted to say, though to himself for a while. His thoughts were very rudely interrupted by the ear-piercing sound of an alarm. Sherlock and Mycroft shared a glance before turning as one and running down the steps and towards the terrible commotion. They rounded a corner and stopped in their tracks. The main building of the University, the building that held the gym, was ablaze. People were screaming and running from the burning structure. Mycroft and Sherlock pushed forward through the crowd to get a better look. A woman came rushing down the stairs and, when no one followed, Mycroft grabbed her arm.

"Is everyone alright? Is everyone out of there?"

"I think so." Sherlock felt relieved, "Except-" The woman stopped to gasp in the smoky air. _Except what? Speak you bloody moron!_, "Except for Lestrade… He's still in there!" The woman pulled away and plugged along after everyone else. Mycroft pivoted so that he was facing Sherlock.

"Mycroft, no. I know what you're thinking. Don't do it! You could get hurt!"

"Sherlock, I have to! I can't sit by and watch while Professor Lestrade burns to death!" Mycroft's voice shook with what was obviously fear, but his face expressed his determination. "I'll be okay, Sherlock. Just wait here." And with that Mycroft took off, heading across the pavement, up the stairs… and through a set of shattered double doors.

"Mycroft, no!" Sherlock shouted desperately. He charged forward and tripped over something… Looking down he saw that it was Mycroft's umbrella. Sherlock scooped it up and continued on. The closer he got the harder it was to breathe. He made it to the first step when a scorching blast of hot air burst forth from the Institute, knocking Sherlock over. Dazed and coughing violently, he groaned and rolled over onto his stomach.

_What… what was I do- Mycroft! _Sherlock sat up, looking at the building. His heart seemed to stop at what he saw. The building was engulfed in flames. They burst through the smoldering windows and doorways and rose up from the collapsing roof.

"_Mycroft_!" The hoarse scream tore from Sherlock's raw throat. "_**MYCROFT**_!" One logical part of his brain knew that it was no use, but for once his emotions took over. He shouted his brother's name until he could shout no more and collapsed in a small, sobbing heap… a small, sobbing heap clutching a worn, black umbrella that now meant so much more than it formerly had.


End file.
